


In the Dark of the Night

by NoisyNoiverns



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Animals, Gen, Major Character Injury, Non-Linear Narrative, Original Character-centric, Pre-Canon, Psychological Trauma, Siblings, Tags May Change, Therapy, Wilderness Survival
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-11-05 14:07:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17920265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoisyNoiverns/pseuds/NoisyNoiverns
Summary: Coracia and her little brother Ierian have gone hunting together once a year, every year since Ierian turned thirty and left mandatory service, just the two of them. But Palaven's frozen tundra isn't as serene as it appears, and when disaster strikes, a fun sibling bonding trip turns into a fight for their very lives.





	In the Dark of the Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this story is set in 2160, three years after relay 314 and two years after (ierian) sparatus is made councilor, on palaven's northernmost continent tiirtias during polar night (aka the nighttime version of midnight sun). all characters are turian unless otherwise noted.
> 
>  **xauu:** a large domesticated Palavenian hunting companion, analogous to Terran hound dogs. covered in metallic quills serving the same function as turian plates, with thick fur beneath and webbed paws. resemble a cross between an otter, a large dog, and a porcupine.  
>  **vincorit:** traditional turian jewelry to signify marriage. each piece is unique, made by one partner (or by an artisan working with them) for the other to signify some important aspect of their relationship.  
>  **dazduus:** antlered, deerlike megafauna native to the Palavenian tundra used for food, clothing, and labor. covered in metallic quills like those of the xauu.

Sunset stained snow-covered roofs and courtyards pink and red and orange, striped with the dark gray of shadows that stretched with each passing minute. Acalin Medical Center was situated in a peaceful part of the city, with shorter buildings that had more room between them for lots that only appeared empty. From the fourth floor, all you could see of the cellars buried below were small holes in the snowdrifts where the doors were kept clean and accessible. Lumps in the snow might have been xinin bushes, or boxes for herb gardens, or perhaps –

“Coracia? Coracia, are you listening?”

The response was automatic, jolted out of her mouth before she could even process the interruption to her survey of the landscape. “It’s Cor.”

Across the little office, Dr. Rhasus sighed quietly. “Cor. My apologies. Have you heard a word I’ve said?”

“Yes.” Patient-doctor confidentiality, don’t expect immediate recovery, this is a process, blah blah blah, she knew the drill. She’d been in and out of different psychologists since she was thirteen and fighting with some mystery mental illness it would take another four doctors and three years to figure out was ADHD mixed with a mood disorder worse than the standard seasonal affective you saw in just about everyone this far north. She’d actually much rather have _that_ doctor back, the one who untangled her cyclic moods and conflicting energy patterns. He’d been fun. But he’d also been old, and getting ready to retire, and had done exactly that ages ago. Besides, this wasn’t exactly his field of expertise, anyway.

Rhasus hesitated, then sighed again, fluttering his mandibles. “It’s my understanding you’re here because you haven’t been sleeping well,” he coaxed. His voice was gentle, quiet. She wanted to say nervous, but his _encouraging-supportive-honest_ subvocals nixed that idea. “Nightmares, you reported on your questionnaire. The doctors in the exposure unit also noted concerns you may have lingering trauma after what you went through out in the Spires.”

Coracia hesitated. _I’m fine_ danced on the tip of her tongue. She’d been repeating the mantra for weeks, ever since her brother woke up, to anybody who asked. _But you’re not, are you?_ asked the little voice in her head. _That’s why you’re here._

She looked down at her hands. Her thumb stretched back and hooked around her vincorit, pulling the bits of quartz up and feeling the edges dig into her skin-tendon-bone. It didn’t hurt, not really, Amulitus had almost religiously blunted every corner before giving it to her. The rocks almost looked blue in the light, replicas of the ice outside that would never melt. He’d offered to take it back after what happened, make her a new one that wouldn’t remind her of her ordeal, but she’d refused, held it close to her heart like a child’s toy. It was a symbol of his love, not of her fear, she’d told him. It could never hurt her.

She ran the pad of her thumb over the largest chunk, the smooth surface calming in its own way. “Every night, I’m back on the ice,” she told it, voice almost a whisper. “I’m crushing my husband in my sleep, thinking he’s my brother, and I have to keep him warm.”

Rhasus hummed and nodded, crossing one leg over the other. “Why don’t we start with what happened, and we can figure out where to go from there?” he asked. “It sounds like there might be more to the story than you’ve been telling the news.”

All the air left her lungs in a rush. “Spirits, you have no idea.” She shook her head, rolling the quartz chunk back and forth along her thumb. “There’s _so much.”_

“Why don’t you start at the beginning,” Rhasus coaxed. “Before anything happened to you or your brother. What started this whole adventure?”

She hesitated, then took a deep breath. _But where_ _ **is**_ _the beginning?_ “Well,” she began, sorting through the images scrolling through her brain, “I guess it started with… See, every year, my brother comes home for two weeks, with Solstice sandwiched in the middle, so he can spend time with us. And every year, a couple days after Solstice is over, me and him pack up our gear and go hunting, a sibling bonding kinda thing. Just us, our dazduus, and Xaznuk – he’s my xauu, he’s a good boy, really smart. And the dazduus, see, our marmat’s side of the family, the Sylidroses, have this whole farm, Great-Aunt Verritana used to run it, when we were in mandatory she passed it down to her son Jaxiter...”

* * *

“Arright, that should do it,” Uncle Jax chirped, giving the strap holding Coracia’s supply pack down on the back of her saddle one last experimental tug. “Sure you got everything?”

Coracia tugged on Digger’s reins gently to check he responded, turning him in a lazy circle. “We have enough food for three people for a week, just to be safe, not including all the food for Xaznuk and the dazduus,” she confirmed. “Sleeping bags, tents, lanterns, extra fuel _for_ the lanterns, emergency beacon, compasses, maps, repair kits...”

“Collapsible sled, ties, Xaznuk’s hauling harness, extra ammunition, fresh water, water purifier, first-aid kit, and so on,” her brother added, sidling his dazduus up closer to Digger. Snowpox, for his part, was shifting his weight back and forth from his left legs to his right and back again, clearly eager to get going. Ierian adjusted his stance in the saddle with ease, holding the reins with one hand. _Like a show-off,_ Coracia wanted to scold, but held her tongue. Ierian was just as skilled a rider as she was, and she knew from experience he’d switch to both hands once they got going. He was just trying to look cool for the sake of the eleven- and eight-year-old children standing on the fence and watching their father with awestruck eyes, just the same as Coracia’s thirteen-year-old was watching her. Well, okay, Daxaeus looked a bit more _jealous_ than his cousins; he wasn’t _quite_ old enough to go out hunting bigger game yet, even if this _wasn’t_ a trip meant just for Coracia and Ierian in the first place. She’d had more than a few talks with him about why he couldn’t go, and none of them had ended with a happy son.

“We’ll be fine,” Ierian was concluding. “We know what to bring. You taught us yourself, you should know.”

Uncle Jax grunted and went over to check Snowpox’s tack. “Oh, I have _full_ faith in you two. Meana didn’t raise _total_ morons. But it never hurts to check, now, do it? Last thing you want is to be a day’s ride out and realize you forgot something important. Signal isn’t the best out there, so you can’t exactly just radio in a call for somebody to meet you halfway.”

Coracia shrugged. “Fair enough.” She clicked her teeth, and Digger obligingly tilted his head back, letting her reach the lantern mounted securely in his antlers and turn it on. “Do we have the stamp of approval?”

Uncle Jax gave them one last glance-over, then nodded. “Teia, Mulli, kids, you think they’re forgetting anything?”

Ierian’s wife, a petite little thing practically drowning in her heavy winter cloak, hopped off the hay bale she’d been sitting on and meandered over. “Just one thing,” she purred, golden eyes glinting in the light from the lamps around the paddock.

Ierian, without having to be asked, whirred amicably and pulled his claws out of the stirrups to tap Snowpox on his shoulders. The dazduus lowed in response as he bent his front legs beneath him, kneeling down far enough that Ierian could lean out of the saddle and give his wife a kiss good-bye. “We’ll be back by Uvotoi,” he assured her as Snowpox stood back up.

While Aediteia purred and pressed her hands against her face like a twitterpated teenager, Coracia’s husband lumbered over, one mandible cocked out. “Think she had the right idea,” he puffed out, stuffing his hands in his pockets while he smiled up at her.

Coracia rolled her eyes and echoed her brother’s stunt. She opted to lean out _before_ Digger reached proper kissing height, letting her duck her head and twist it so she could plant a smooch on Amulitus’s mouth plates before he was ready for her. “Love you, too, dork,” she murmured, nuzzling him gently.

His mandibles only rose higher, and she couldn’t help but mirror him as Digger got back to his feet. “Do some stuff with Dax, have some father-son time,” she told him, trying to keep her voice low so her son wouldn’t sulk. “He’s _definitely_ still sore over not getting to come with.”

Amulitus chuckled. “You say that like I ain’t already got something planned,” he teased.

She raised a brow plate and lowered a mandible. _“Do_ you?”

He just winked, and she groaned without malice. “You’re the worst.” She tapped his shoulder with her foot as she tugged on Digger’s reins to turn him towards the gate. “I’ll bring back something you can put in the smoker,” she promised, tapping the stirrups against Digger’s ribs to spur him forward. She raised her voice as they walked past the children on the fence, calling, “Dax, I love you, baby, listen to your father, and don’t stay up too late!”

“I _know,_ Mom!” her son complained, only to hesitate before adding, “Love you, too!”

While Ierian exchanged his own goodbyes and I-love-you’s with his kids, Uncle Jax tromped over to the gate. Xaznuk, sitting patiently by the latch, leapt to his feet, massive tail thumping against the post both in anticipation and in delight at the friendly pat on the head Jax gave him. The hinges creaked in protest, but swung open just enough to let them out in single-file, Xaznuk already running back and forth to ask them to follow him. Her shadow sharpened suddenly as Ierian turned on Snowpox’s lantern, then faded again as he and the runny-nosed stag came up alongside her and Digger. “Bye, kids!” Jax called behind them. “Be safe!”

They turned and waved, but in the frigid cold of polar night, it wasn’t long before Jax was herding the little ones and the Citadel-born Aediteia back into the house for warmth, leaving the two of them alone with their mounts, their xauu, and the stars far above.

They walked in companionable silence for a while, enjoying the peaceful stillness of the ice. Xaznuk ran out ahead and came back in sprays of snow, absolutely ecstatic to be out of the city and in his natural element. In the oppressive darkness of winter on the tundra, the lights of the farm were quickly swallowed whole, leaving them with only a moon and a half plus the lanterns strapped onto the dazduus’s antlers to light the way.

Then, like they did every year, Coracia looked over at her brother, and Ierian looked over at her, and she gathered up the reins in her hands, and hunched down over Digger’s neck, and he did the same on Snowpox, and as one, they pulled the stirrups back, looked straight ahead again, kicked their dazduus, and raced.

* * *

Coracia paused, wondering where to go from there. Rhasus was quiet, eyes on her. Apparently realizing she’d gotten stuck, he prompted, “Did the two of you like to race?”

Coracia blinked. “Yeah.” She twisted her thumb to let her vincorit fall back into place, then reached for it again. “We’re siblings, you know? We like to compete.” She shook her head. “Digger is faster than Snowpox, but he gets slowed down by gear a bit more, so it’s usually a toss-up.”

Rhasus hummed. “How else do you two compete?”

She shrugged. “Stupid things, I guess. Who can eat more dessert, who can remember more useless trivia, dumb sibling things. We hit each other sometimes, scuffle a bit, but we don’t really mean it. He’s my little brother. I love him.”

Rhasus nodded sagely. “So the two of you are close, then?”

“Very.” She pulled at the tip of one hunk of quartz until the entire bracelet flipped inside-out. “We’re raising our kids so close they’re like siblings. Or, as much as we can, anyway, with Ierian on the Citadel now.”

“I see. Has your brother moving to the Citadel impacted your relationship any?”

Another shrug. “A little, I guess. We’re doing our best. His wife’s family, Teia’s parents, they live on the Citadel, but they’re, uh… Eri doesn’t like them much, he doesn’t want Teia or the kids near them if they can help it. That’s a whole mess, I don’t really know a whole lot besides that Eri threatened them with a restraining order. But ’cause of them, at least, that’s pushing them back towards Acalin, so we stay in touch a lot.”

“Mm.” Rhasus tapped away at his terminal, taking notes. “So these hunting trips, do they help you two stay close?”

She nodded. “Yeah. It’s fun, and Eri gets to take fresh meat back to the Citadel. They have to live on imports and synth-meat out there, that’s no way to live.”

Rhasus made a distinctly non-committal noise. “So tell me more about this past trip. Did the accident happen while you were racing?”

Coracia’s mandibles pulled in closer to her face, and her hand trembled as it toyed with the quartz at her wrist. “No. It was later. Our plan was to go out to the Spires, make camp for the night, then go out and hunt the Spires and the Barrens. We do it every year, the Spires are good for camping, we just hunt a different direction each year so we’re not hurting any specific populations too much.”

“Mm. You know, I’ve never been to the Spires, I’m not a native to the area. Is it true the ice grew that way naturally, or is that myth?”

Coracia shook her head. “No, it’s an old forest. Prehistoric. Back before continental drift moved Tiirtias up to the north pole, you know? There were these huge trees, enormous, but as the temperature dropped, they started getting coated in ice more and more, and the trees died, and a bunch fell over, but some are still standing,and they just kept getting more ice, until you got the Spires. It’s cool, if you walk close and look carefully enough...”

* * *

Coracia could _swear_ she could see the remnants of the ancient forest trapped in the ice, if she just squinted hard enough. They’d made camp underneath a column that had formed diagonally, probably a fallen tree that had been fused to its neighbors with the advancing ice. The driving winds across the Barrens had kept the hollow below from filling with gravel or snow, leaving almost a giant lean-to, perfect for pitching a tent under. The dazduus rooted through what snow _had_ made it to the ground, hunting for the lichens and stubborn tundra grass underneath, while Xaznuk romped in the snowdrifts and Ierian got the fire started. Coracia had volunteered for the task of setting up a rough security system, a curtain of clanking metal and bones strung around the campsite to alert them if anything got too close, held up by stakes hammered into the spires themselves.

At the thump of a big, Tiirti foot stamping against the ground, Coracia looked over her shoulder at her little brother. The fire was dancing merrily in the makeshift pit he’d dug out and surrounded with rocks, and he was neatly pulling his mittens back on now that he didn’t need as much dexterity. “So,” he chirped, “are you done yet?”

Coracia paused, then snorted and gave the stake she’d been working on another good _thwack_ with the hammer. “Almost, smartass. Check our comm signal, if you’re not busy.”

“It’s probably terrible,” he commented, dutifully doing as told anyway. “How’s your ’tool for battery? If we alternate using the charger, we’ll always have one with enough battery for emergencies.”

She checked the hold of the stake, then, satisfied, retreated a few steps and pulled up her omni-tool. “I’m at… seventy-seven percent, and most of that’s probably from having to use the flashlight ’cause _somebody_ dropped his flashlight in the snow.”

“ _Please,_ it was _your_ dazduus that startled me.”

“We still lost half an hour of travel time, dumbass. And then we had to change mittens ’cause the snow was so deep and they got all wet.”

“At least we had the gloves underneath, don’t blame _me_ for everything. Remember, _I’m_ the one who keeps reminding you to do that. I don’t even _live here_ year-round anymore.”

“Yeah, you don’t forget ’cause you’re not here enough to acclimate as the weather’s changing.”

Ierian rolled his eyes and shook his head. “I’m right, and you know it.” He frowned at his omni-tool’s display, then sighed and turned it off. “The test ping took a long time to _send,_ much less get back. We have a signal, but I’d guess it’s going to be spotty at best.”

Coracia sighed. “Better than no signal at all, I guess.” She walked out and grabbed the alert line, jangling a bit to make sure it wouldn’t come loose if something ran into it. Anything small enough to slip through the gaps wasn’t worth worrying about, and anything big enough to hit it had better damn well stay on its own side. The stake held firm, so she let go and ambled back towards the fire. “The game warden put out a bulletin, said there’s no limit on blackfoot vau this year. They had a good summer, apparently.”

Ierian hummed, digging through their packs. “We’ll have kebabs, then. We can use the fish Marmat sent along.”

“Ugh, only if I get to prepare them. You skewer them whole.”

Ierian shot an indignant look over his shoulder. “Eating them whole is  _good_ for you. You’re a doctor, you should know that.”

“I’m an ophthalmologist _,_ eating an entire vau does _nothing_ for your eyes.” She ducked into the tent and sat down on her sleeping bag, feet still outside so she wouldn’t track _too_ much snow in. “What should we have tonight?”

Ierian raised a lumpy white package from the food box and waggled it to get her attention. “There’s an entire phodros for us. _Each._ Did you bring the skewers?”

“Outside pocket with the red flap. I brought the collapsible ones.”

She watched her brother pat his way through her bag until he found his prize, then moved so he could push both packs into the tent. Xaznuk, apparently smelling the now-exposed seafood, came tromping up, his quills sporting a hearty dusting of the snow his paws sent flying. While Ierian set about making dinner, Coracia hummed and leaned back, looking up at the sky far above.

Normally, she loved the view. In Acalin, light pollution was strictly controlled, but still unavoidable in the long night. This far away from the city, almost a full day’s hard ride out, she could see _everything._ The stars twinkled and gleamed, Menae and Nanus looked back at her like fond parents. Some nights, the auroras painted a weaving dance across the inky canvas, and she could almost believe the old legends about minor spirits coming down to play.

But tonight, something seemed _off._ She didn’t know what, and she didn’t know why. The icy pillars that usually made such a lovely silhouette against the sky seemed sinister tonight, more like great teeth than long-dead trees. She couldn’t explain it, but for once in her life, she wanted to be anywhere but there.

“Cor? Is something wrong?”

Her brother’s voice snapped her out of her trance, and she shook herself, looking back at him with wide eyes. “Huh?”

Ierian tilted his head. “You had a strange look on your face. Is something wrong?”

She paused, considered. _Yes? No?_ As near as she could tell, nothing _was_ wrong. Nothing bad had happened all day, even if she did give Ierian a bit of shit about the ride. He was her little brother, it was her _solemn duty_ to tease him a little. “No, it’s fine,” she said, shaking her head. “I think the jerky we had on the ride up must’ve disagreed with me, is all.”

Ierian thought about this, then shrugged. “Jax probably made it too tough again, you know how he is. Doesn’t understand not everyone enjoys eating _boot leather._ Here, your skewer’s ready.”

* * *

“… and then we ate, fed the animals, and went to bed,” Coracia finished with a shrug.

Rhasus paused in his typing. “Nothing else?”

She shook her head. “That’s it. First day was kind of uneventful. Pack up, ride out, make camp, eat, go to sleep.”

“Hmm. I see.” Rhasus took a few more notes. “So, it sounds to me as though, up until the accident, this was a _good_ memory.”

“Well, yeah.” Another shrug. “I like hunting with my brother. He’s a dork, but he’s my brother. He gets me.”

Rhasus nodded. “That’s good, that’s good. It’s good you have that foundation with him.” He glanced at the chrono on the wall, then hummed. “We’re almost out of time, so I’m going to stop you there. Next time, I think I’d like to hear what actually happened to your brother, yes? Based on the notes in your file, I think the heart of the matter is what happened afterwards, but I think we should work through what kicked off that entire web of events before we get to that, so we can have a good starting point. But this is good, what you told me today, I think it’s good. I think perhaps, since these hunting trips are so important to you, seeing as your brother isn’t on Palaven as much anymore, it might be good for you to try to focus on the good part of the trip, before the accident, so you can still have that bonding time with your brother without the pain following it immediately after.”

Coracia’s mandibles lowered. “And how am I supposed to do that?”

Rhasus leaned back in his chair. “Well, I would suggest meditating on them, and whenever your mind starts to drift further along in the trip, just sort of gently push it back to the part where you were enjoying yourself. Or, perhaps, talk about them. You seem to hold your husband in high regard, perhaps talk to him about the good parts of the trip. How much fun you had racing your brother, the misadventure with the flashlight, bickering over the vau. I think for now, so early in your treatment, we don’t really want you revisiting those more painful parts of the memory without help just yet. Just try to focus on the good parts, and we can work on the less good parts as we go along.”

There was a noisy buzz from Rhasus’s wrist, and he glanced at it. “That’ll be our six-minute warning.” He sat back up and went to type again, telling her, “I’m going to note in here that I’d like to see you back in two weeks, and you can make the appointment with Nirius up front, alright? We made a good start, Corac- _Cor,_ we did. It was very nice talking with you today, I’m looking forward to our next talk.”


End file.
